


Alignment

by Hella_Queer



Series: Operation KALEIDOSCOPE [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Guns, Gunslinger Girl!AU, a little crying, brother bonding, i'm playing favorites with Gavin can you tell?, some lads get hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the planets don't orbit around the sun. Sometimes they orbit each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alignment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nowhere Kids](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031611) by [Kahnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahnah/pseuds/Kahnah). 



> Takes place three months after Novocaine.

 

 

  
When Gavin was nine he burned himself trying to make breakfast. It was a little thing, nothing that required a hospital visit, but he shouted so loud one might've thought he was being tortured. Thankfully, Jack had been the only one at the base, the others out on some recon mission that didn't require the two of them. The older man had lightly scolded him about using the stove on his own, but he bandaged his hand and kissed his head for trying. Jack ended up making pancakes, and Gavin passed his injury off as scraping it after a clumsy fall.

When Gavin was twelve he got stuck in a tree. They were at the park and some little kids got their kite stuck. Gavin, being the only one at the picnic blanket, jumped at the chance to help. Mostly so they would stop crying and leave but that was beside the point. He scampered up there in no time at all and sent the kite fluttering down, down, down...down to the ground.

So it was a bit higher than he originally estimated. And now that he was up there he was shaking so hard it was a miracle he didn't slip. He tried to call out for help but only managed to squeak in fear. He could see the others below on the blanket, but he was too high up to be noticed. Thankfully, Michael called his phone and the sound of a bird squawking (his own voice) alerted them to his presence. Geoff had to climb up to the top and coax him down, and the lads teased him for weeks.

At thirteen he refused to enter the bathroom for a month straight until someone made absolutely sure there wasn't a spider in the drains. Fourteen was the year of _"Can I please please please have a skateboard?"_ Then after twisting his ankle he hammered it to pieces and set it on fire. There was the Glue Incident, the Sprinkles Scare, that time he got his foot stuck in the toilet. The _other_ time he got his _other_ foot stuck in a _different_ toilet. And who could forget that time he almost rode his new motorcycle off a cliff because he thought there was land under him. (Ryan was so angry he didn't even care that Michael pretty much ran Gavin over to cut him off before he fell to his doom).

Intimidating people over comms worked fine when they couldn't see him, see how thin and scrawny he was compared to everyone else. Ray was tiny, but fast, able to outrun anyone on foot. Gavin was awkward, second guessed his own feet and ended up being the damsel in distress whenever he went out on heists. No one ever held it against him, but he knew that the others were always checking him to make sure he didn't mess up. It was frustrating, humiliating, and disheartening. After all these years he was still the weakest link in the crew.

Gavin has always felt helpless. Until the day he doesn't.

 

     ————————————————

 

It starts with an explosion.

They're in a warehouse with some low level crew, working out a weapons deal that's supposed to ship out in about two weeks. Geoff and Ray are on the top floor with the leader, a kingpin and his ghost. Michael and Jack are two floors below them with the bulk of the crew, no fear and even a few laughs, ill at ease but on guard. Ryan and Gavin are on the ground floor, standing around silently as two armed men watch the doors to the outside. A simple planning session.

Then the entire building shakes.

Gavin's on the ground before he knows what's happening, shielded by Ryan's body as he takes out the two guards who no longer seem bored with watching the empty street.

"Come on," Ryan says, hauling him up by the back of his shirt. He pulls him towards the entrance, but Gavin wrenches away.

"We can't leave without the others."

"We're not. I'm getting you to safety first."

Gavin scowls, clenches his hands into fists. They didn't have time to find a safe place for him, and in all honesty he didn't want one. His family was in danger, and he wasn't about to abandon them. With a look of determination he grabs one of the guns off a guard—a bulky shotgun—and sprints down the hall towards the staircase. He hears Ryan curse before footsteps fall in behind him.

  
     ————————————————

  
Locating Jack and Michael is easy; they follow the sounds of gunfire and cursing, and burst out into an open area about halfway up the building. It's like something out of an action movie. The two of them stand back to back in the middle of the floor, guns ready to shoot, surrounded by a group of mercenaries with expensive looking equipment.

Expensive looking equipment that is now pointing at them.

"Get down!" Jack shouts, then roundhouse kicks the guy nearest him.

The room explodes into a barrage of bullets and sparks as they bounce off the metal walls. Gavin and Ryan duck low as they run for cover, but at the last second Gavin trips his guardian—who falls safety behind a line of crates—and heads straight for the mini army. There's only fifteen guys, and they must have orders to disarm instead of kill because their shots are terrible.

Also shotguns? Not the best at short range. Once Gavin realizes this, he starts using it as a melee weapon, bashing heads and cracking shoulder blades. Ryan picks off the men who chase after him, making offhand comments about how incredibly grounded he's gonna be when they get home. Gavin laughs, dodges a clumsy fist, and point blanks a guy in the neck just for fun.

Michael's pained shout has him skidding to a stop, just in time to see his big brother crumple to the ground.

Ryan pops out of hiding and finishes off the men converging around Jack, then they're all rushing to Michael. Jack's hands flutter over his head, face pale and eyes jumping to different spots on his gunslinger's body. Michael groans and clutches his left thigh, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, probably from the willpower it took to not cry out in agony.

"Bastard got my knee," he gasps, and Gavin looks down and expects blood. There is none, and he frowns because this means one of these dead pricks used his idea and instead of shooting—thankfully, because gunshot wounds are awful and a blown out knee is torture—they had used a gun as a melee weapon.

"Can you stand?" Jack asks, wiping away the sweat and getting an arm under him to help him up. Michael tries setting his injured leg down, but immediately hisses in protest and resumes his wobbly flamenco stance. He shakes his head, blinking back tears.

Jack gives his gun to Ryan before picking Michael up, arranging him so that he could shield his boy with a quick pivot. Michael looks put out, but wraps his arms around his guardian's neck and hides his face in his chest.

"Cover us," Jack says, half a plea in his words with his own nerves shot. Ryan nods, reaches for Gavin's shoulder but the boy is by the door, a pistol in hand, peaking out into the hallway.

"It's clear," he calls, and won't look Ryan in the eye as he passes through the door ahead of Jack. They reach the stairs without incident, but when Ryan begins to descend, Gavin goes upward.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Ryan glares up at him, mouth set in a scowl. Behind him Michael groans, squeezes his eyes shut as his leg throbs. Jack pulls him closer and kisses his forehead. "Ryan.."

"Gavin."

"Geoff and Ray are upstairs and the explosion came from the roof. They could be hurt."

As he speaks, shouts and gunfire sound from upstairs, and then another explosion rocks the building, only this time it's below them. Jack cradles Michael closer to his chest and looks ready to book it. Ryan holds Gavin's gaze, harsh blue and wide open green. He curses and looks away, pulling out his own pistol so that he's duel wielding.

"Not a scratch on you, you hear me?" He forces out through gritted teeth. Gavin nods, checks his gun, and then he's running up, away from safety and into the unknown.

  
     ————————————————

  
The top floor of the warehouse is nothing but long hallways, offices, and dead bodies. As Gavin steps over yet another fallen gun-for-hire, he takes note that they all have one thing in common; a bullet hole in the middle of their foreheads. Definitely Ray's work. He's been searching for ten minutes now, being careful not to fall through a hole and steering clear of the mini fires that pop up in corners. The ceiling is missing in chunks, and he can see the dark sky above them, void of stars in this industrial district.

Gavin starts to call out for them when he comes to another fork in the hallway and his lungs stop working.

The very definition of tunnel vision; all he can see is Ray standing at the end of the hall, pistol in hand, mouth in a hard line. He stares down the barrel of a shotgun, no traces of fear to be found. Ray blinks and turns his head a fraction when he hears Gavin shout his name, shoots at the man's foot when his narrowed eyes travel in his direction. They're back to their standoff, and Ray edges backwards, glancing behind him at the wrong moment.

The scene Gavin sees in his mind, Ray falling, the gun slipping from his hands as blood paints the walls, only has a moment to take root before reality hits him hard.

Gavin _screams_ as his body hits the floor, pain like nothing he's ever experienced covering his entire body. He can't think, can't speak, can't move; trapped in this unforgiving burning that doesn't go away no matter how loudly he begs. Someone touches his face and he flinches away, sobbing, calling out for someone to help him. He doesn't know how long he is where he is, but eventually he can't be there anymore.

Gavin slips away, feeling dizzy and hot, gasping out something he isn't sure is words. But he says it again and again, until he isn't saying anything at all.

  
     ————————————————

  
What was meant to be a simple meeting turned into a clumsy ambush. The only reason it worked was because they weren't on guard. They had settled in to Achievement City just a few months ago, and news traveled slowly. These chumps didn't realize just who he was, who they were, and figured they could weed out this seemingly low level crew for kicks. But they had made several tactical errors.

First, they didn't shoot to kill. The Crew had a few big rules, and that was one of them when it came to missions. Their guns were not for show, and if the idiots challenging them wanted to stay alive, well they wouldn't challenge them, would they?

Their second mistake was having the 'meeting' on the top floor. A warehouse is nothing but big windows and scaffolding. Had he brought the proper equipment, Geoff could've jumped out a window and repelled to safety. Never leave your prey with an escape, not even as a tease.

The third, and most fatal mistake, was trying to separate him from Ray.

Chloroform was a good idea in theory, since Geoff had to be half dragged down the hallway. He felt more so than saw the explosions—a clever distraction to his crew as well as a signal for the guns-for-hire—but it made for slow progress. Geoff was thrown against a wall at the end of a super short walk, and after nodding off for what felt like seconds, Ray was standing in front of him, concerned but mostly pissed off. Reality didn't set in until he tried to stand and realized that he couldn't.

Here is where he himself went wrong.

He hadn't prepared the crew for an ambush, didn't bring any comms units, nor had he studied a blueprint of the building. He had been too reliant on past endeavors, thinking that if one similar mission went off without a hitch, surely this one would as well.

Ray dragged him down to the end of the hall before he needed a break. Geoff slid down the wall and tried hard to fight against the chemicals still dancing around in his brain. He had no idea where the others were, and started patting his pockets for his cellphone. A shape loomed over him, blocking the artificial lights, and he looked up and stared at Ray's back. Then he looked past his gunslinger and saw two men with guns. They were both tall and skinny; not young skinny, but former drug addict skinny. Ray could probably take these guys in a fist fight. But this wasn't a fist fight.

Geoff could have kicked himself if only he had the energy. They were backed into a corner without any way of contacting the others, two asshats were pointing guns at his gunslinger, and he could barely keep his head up. He wondered just how he was going to talk his way out of this when—

_"RAY!"_

—Gavin started running down the hall, teleporting, at least from Geoff's perspective. He couldn't see much past Ray's hip, but he saw the second man holster his gun and slink away. He saw the shotgun aiming for his Ray, perfectly level with his head. He saw concerned brown eyes capture his own and he wanted to scream, wanted to lash out and hurt and cry as the man pulled the trigger.

He _did_ scream as Ray staggered back, clutching his chest like he's trying to keep something from leaking out. Geoff can't see anything besides his face, paler than he's ever been. More shots go off in quick secession, and then Ray's falling to his knees and gasping, still holding himself. Geoff gritted his teeth and forced his body to move. He grabbed Ray by the shoulders and pulled him into his chest, shaking. All he could think about was that gun and his boy falling and never getting up and being unable to even fucking move to hold him.

And then Gavin started screaming.

  
     ————————————————

  
Ryan hasn't said a word since they got back to the base. He called Caleb on the drive over, voice clipped and breaking no arguments, then fell silent. That was five hours ago, and no one feels stupid enough to try and coax words out of the man.

They're all settled in the living room now. Michael and Jack take up one of the couches, the former wrapped in a big blanket. His left knee is a brace; no life changing damage, but it'll heal faster if he can't jostle it too much. Jack pets his hair and kisses his temple, but the pair remain quiet, observing.

Geoff and Ray occupy the recliner, wrapped around each other so tightly it's hard to distinguish limbs. Geoff murmurs nonsense, soft reassuring sounds that both soothe his gunslinger and send flares of anxiety up his spine. The reality of what happened has caught up to him, and he's having trouble keeping it together. He clings to his guardian, burying his face in his chest, hoping that the feelings will go away so he doesn't have to think about the elephant not in the room.

Ryan paces like a lion in its den, flipping an old switchblade open and closed so his shaky hands have something to do. He won't look at anyone, doesn't want to accuse when this was ultimately his own fault. He should have stayed, or insisted that they all look for Geoff and Ray. He should've been able to take out the man who harmed Michael. He should have been better.

Two floors below them, Gavin sleeps in the infirmary. In the five hours it took to reach the base, get him examined, bandage him up, and assign him treatment, he hasn't made a sound.

"Ryan, sit down. You're working yourself up." Jack eyes the other man with something akin to pity. He's been in his position before, and the memory has him pulling Michael even closer.

Ryan collapses on the nearest chair-like object and puts his head in his hands. He takes a few deep, shuttering breaths, fingers clutching wayward strands of hair. Geoff opens his mouth to speak just as the man's shoulders start shaking. Ryan hunches lower in his seat, slowly crumbling. The muscle of the Fake AH Crew tears apart, until the only thing left is a man consumed by grief and fear.

"He wasn't wearing a vest." His voice is suspiciously hoarse. "He.. I can't believe I let him go alone, what the fuck was I thinking?"

"You listened to your gunslinger," Michael says quietly.

Ryan shakes his head, but otherwise doesn't move. "I'm supposed to protect him. I promised I would keep him safe.." He trails off, sucking in a gasp. Geoff casts worried eyes to Jack, completely unequipped to handle this. The Vagabond could be controlled to an extent, the man was a professional after all. But they weren't used to dealing with Ryan. The man who watched cooking shows and had mini cacti. The father who loved just a little too late and now had no idea how to make up for lost time.

"They shot him in the chest."

The words fall like acid rain, eroding away any semblance of calm. Michael retreats further into Jack, eyes wide with disbelief. No one had told him that! He searches for Ray's eyes across the room, but the younger boy appears to be sleeping, face hidden in Geoff's chest.

"Where?" Michael whispers, clutching his blanket. It takes a while for Ryan to answer. His body alternates between deathly still and violent rocking. On his next intake of breath it sounds like he's struggling just to take in air. Seeing his distress, Geoff decides to finally step up as the leader he failed to be.

"He was hit in the top of his ribcage on the right side. Not his chest exactly." He closes his eyes. "But, it was a shotgun, so the damage is more significant than it would be had the man had a pistol." Geoff looks to the ceiling and blinks rapidly, trying to keep his own tears at bay. This was his fault and they all knew it. He hadn't prepared them, hadn't given them the protection they needed, and now..

"Will he be okay?" Michael asks his guardian, but his eyes are on Ryan. The man's loud gasps have grown to quiet sobs, and he hasn't stopped shaking.

"Of course, pumpkin," Jack runs his fingers through his hair. "Gavin just needs to rest. The body knows how to heal itself when things go wrong." He kisses his gunslinger's temple, rubbing his arms where goosebumps have appeared. Michael nods like he believes him and closes his eyes, hoping with everything he's got that when he wakes up, Gavin will too.

The sound of Ryan's muffled crying fades away into white noise as he drifts off.

  
     ————————————————

  
They all sleep in the base that night, Michael and Jack in one guest room, Ray and Geoff in another. Ryan nonverbally communicates that he'll stay in the living room by slumping over on the couch. They leave him a few diet cokes and a sandwich, but he doesn't look like he's up for eating. Still, Ryan nods to them collectively, so at least they know he's aware of what's going on.

"You two go on up," Geoff says, rubbing his face. "Jack and I are gonna clean up a bit down here." The man looks tired, but still tries to muster up a smile for the boys.

Ray helps Michael upstairs, trying and failing not to stare at his knee brace; it looks uncomfortable and kinda itchy. He steers them into the first bedroom they come across, frowning deeply when Michael hisses as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Hurts to bend," he mumbles, rubbing the spot above the top of the brace. "Lucky bastard got in a cheap shot."

Ray hovers in front of him, not sure what to do or what to say. He's never been in this position before. As a general rule made by their stubborn guardians, the Lads aren't supposed to get seriously injured. A bad fall or a punch to the face is nothing. Even a little burn from one of Michael's newest experiments is met with a heavy sigh and lots of salve. But Gavin of all people getting shot, and Michael being unable to walk properly means they lost. They weren't on top of their game and now had to face the consequences. And the worst part was that Ray himself was unscathed, at least physically.

"How long do you have to wear the brace?" He asks, shoving his hands deep inside of his hoodie pockets.

Michael wiggles further up the bed, keeping his left leg straight. "If I stay off of it as much as possible, Caleb says I'll be able to take it off in about three to five weeks. Then another two or three weeks of physical therapy without the brace to make sure nothing's fucked up."

Ray watches him get comfortable against the headboard, heart clenching every time his brother winces. Seeing him hurt was like watching it rain hotdogs—seemingly impossible. Michael was the rock, unmovable, unbreakable. How could his protector be this vulnerable? It just didn't make sense.

Jack arrives eventually, and with a helpful nudge he guides a frozen Ray to the other guest room. Geoff's already in bed, his laptop open in front of him and a glass of whiskey on the bedside table. He looks up when Ray enters the room and manages a strained smile.

"Hey, Rayray. Ready for bed?" He pats the pillow next to his, smile wavering when all Ray does is stare at him with empty eyes. The boy shuffles further into the room and crawls onto the bed, only making it about halfway before collapsing on his side.

"Ray?" Geoff reaches out to him, concern replacing the exhaustion in his eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"My fault," Ray mumbles miserably. "It's my fault that Gavin got shot."

He looks so small, like the timid boy who wouldn't speak more than five words at a time. The little boy who was taught he had to be perfect, and beat himself up over the tiniest mistake. That was not the boy Geoff wanted to see now, after so many years of progress. He only saw that broken child in his deepest of nightmares.

"No." Geoff pulls Ray up and cradles him to his chest. "It is not your fault. If it's anyone's fault besides the bastard who had the gun, it's mine. I should have prepared us better."

Ray tucks his head under his guardian's chin and clings to his shirt, frowning deeply. "Gavin got hurt because of me."

"He got hurt _instead_ of you."

"What's the difference?"

Geoff shifts their position so that they're sitting up more securely. He combs his fingers through Ray's hair and begins rocking them back and forth. Ray presses his ear up against his chest and focuses on the steady heartbeat that means the world to him. He could have lost this today, and the thought has him curling up even tighter to better fit in his lap.

"I'm going to be very honest with you, Ray," Geoff says, voice tight. "The man who shot Gavin.. He was aiming for your head."

A jolt of shock shoots up Ray's spine. He hadn't known that, too busy looking behind him to check on Geoff.

"He had a clear shot, too. A little overkill with the shotgun, but I'm guessing he was a new hire. Considering they blew up the building, I'm assuming they weren't all that into subtlety."

"My head.." Ray whispers in disbelief. Geoff nods, kissing him forehead, his temple, the top of his head, anywhere that he can reach. He's shaking now, and when he speaks, it's clear he's holding in a sob.

"I hate that Gavin got hurt. But there will never be a day that I'm not grateful to that kid." He holds Ray closer to his chest, and cries. He cries from fear and frustration and happiness and guilt. He cries because he has no words left to say, but needs to get rid of the pit in his stomach. He cries with Ray in his arms because against all odds he's safe and alive. They're _all_ alive.

Ray hugs him tight and stays silent, questions swirling round in his head like a tornado. But the only person he wants to talk to right now is two floors below him, wrapped up in bandages and blankets, and pumped full of enough pain killers to put a lion to sleep.

So he waits.

  
     ————————————————

  
Wrestling out of Geoff's arms at three in the morning proves to be more difficult than Ray anticipated. His guardian was normally a cuddler, but right now he was an actual octopus. It takes fifteen minutes to crawl out of his arms, and another five to lie to the whiny old man about needing to use the bathroom. Once out of the room, Ray waits for his snores to start back up before tip-toeing down the hall.

He peeks into the second bedroom and finds Michael sleeping on Jack's chest, his leg propped up on a bunch of pillows. Jack holds him close, face buried in his curls. They're like a little family of bears. Ray closes the door quietly and continues to the stairs, wincing at every creak and groan. He pauses at the bottom of the staircase to calm his racing heart, only to jump nearly a foot in the air when he sees the tall, shadowy figure in the doorway.

"You should be sleeping."

Ryan could seriously pass for the grim reaper what with how pale and drained he looks. He's still wearing his clothes from earlier, his hair is a tangled mess, and the lingering traces of face paint around his eyes and mouth reveal that the man hasn't even washed up.

"So should you," Ray murmurs. He would bet all the money he's ever stolen that Ryan didn't even _know_ the meaning of sleep right now. Despite being clearly dead on his feet, he's still trying to enforce authority into his voice.

It's not working.

"Go lay down," Ray says, taking the man's arm and leading him back to the living room. The sandwich lays untouched, and several Diet Coke cans have joined the two that were left behind. Ray pushes him down on the couch and starts searching for the blanket that Jack kept around for occasions like these.

"I promised that I would protect him."

Ryan stares unseeingly at the television, harsh, too bright colors flashing across his face. Ray finds the blanket in a cabinet of the entertainment system and carries it over to him. He stands awkwardly next to Ryan, unsure of how to carry out the next step. He looks down at the floor; Ryan still has his boots on.

"He won't blame you." Ray says it with such confidence that it drives away Ryan's thousand yard stare. Tired blue eyes search his face before jumping away, and Ray uses this opportunity to drape the blanket over him and turn off the television. Darkness fills the room, leaving them in nothing but shadows and silhouettes.

"How can you know that? He's practically in a coma, who knows what he even remembers."

Ray just shakes his head, nudging Ryan's shoulder to get him to lay down. The man stays firm, and even in the darkness Ray can feel the eyes burning into him. Desperate for an answer or a cure, something to settle the storm in his heart.

"Our job as gunslingers is to protect our guardians. That's the way it's supposed to be. Even though things are different with our group, that's still the primary objective."

"No—"

"The best way to protect our guardians is to keep them out of the line of fire. To do this effectively, our guardians have to listen to what we say. That's what you did today. You listened."

Ray can't remember the last time he had a long conversation with Ryan that didn't have to do with a heist. It was both nerve-wracking and thrilling at the same time. He would never admit it out loud, but Geoff's overly doting nature sometimes got on his nerves. He never scolded him harshly or yelled at him when he messed up. Even Jack would lose his cool now and again, and Ryan and Gavin argued in their special, heart crushing way. He doesn't like that Ryan is hurting, but he likes that the man seems to be paying attention to him without cooing or trying to reassure him.

"Please go to sleep, Ryan. At least for a little while."

And then something incredible happens.

Ryan takes out his phone, sets the alarm for an hour later, puts it down on the coffee table, then lays down and burrows under the blanket.

"Just for an hour," he murmurs, already unable to keep his eyes open. Ray smiles to himself and clears away the coffee table, taking extra care to not make too much noise. When he's absolutely sure Ryan's asleep, he unlocks his phone—Gavin told him the passcode was 0523 for whatever reason—and changes the alarm to six hours instead of one. In the label box he simply puts _"You needed it."_

One of them deserved a good night's sleep.

  
     ————————————————

  
The infirmary of the new base was pretty similar to the old one, meaning that the walls were bland and the smell of chemical cleanser was almost nauseating. Ray never liked being ill, and if he could he avoided the infirmary at all costs. He liked keeping his insides on the inside, and the only holes he wanted were the ones he was born with. But today he'll make an exception.

Gavin lies still in the hospital bed, white blanket pulled up to his shoulders, looking like a human burrito. Ray sits in the hard metal chair next to the bed, wondering briefly why they didn't get more comfortable seats. Perhaps it was an incentive not to get hurt. If they made it out of a heist without injuries they wouldn't have to suffer the Chair of Future Back Problems. He laughs to himself before it gets swallowed up by a yawn.

"You should be sleeping."

Gavin watches him with cloudy eyes, head tilted slightly, but otherwise motionless aside from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Ray stares back just as silent, the similarities between guardian and gunslinger not lost on him. His gaze falls to Gavin's left hand, and the IV tube sticking out of him.

"Caleb patch you up good?" Green eyes are slow to blink as Gavin tilts his head in the other direction. His lips move without sound before he answers. "Mmm. Lots of morty. Can't feel anything."

Ray lets out another chuckle and lays a gentle hand on Gavin's leg. 'Morty' was their nickname for Morphine. The lads thought giving drugs cool nicknames would persuade Caleb to give them some when they had headaches or were bored. It never worked, but it had become so integrated in their vocabulary that even Jack would slip up and use it from time to time.

Gavin blinks hard a couple of times before truly looking at him. He frowns a little, reaching down with his free hand to gently grab Ray's. The younger boy laces their fingers together and squeezes, the ache in his chest throbbing just a little less.

"Why?" Those three little letters have been bouncing around in his head ever since he wasted the fucker who shot Gavin. They cut deep when Ryan, frantic and panicked, raced out of the building with Gavin in his arms, leaving Geoff and himself to stumble after him. They ate away at him while Caleb worked on removing the bullet and stitching up the wound and cleaning up the mess. Why had Gavin jumped in front of him like that? Risked his life for someone that wasn't his guardian?

"Because I had to."

Gavin has the nerve to close his eyes like he's the main character in an action movie who just said something profound to his love interest. He takes a deep breath and winces, wheezing as he breathes out, and Ray has to look away.

"No you didn't!"

"You don't complain when Michael saves you."

No one ever complained when the eldest lad took charge, except for Jack who was always worried about his boy. Ryan trusted him to watch his back as he left himself in vulnerable positions, something he never did with anyone else. Geoff usually took him along when they needed to meet—intimidate—other crews, because behind his sweet face lurked an attack dog waiting for someone to cross the line.

"W-well that's different. Michael is.." Ray searches for the right words, idly pulling on his hoodie's drawstrings.

"Better than I am?" Gavin's voice is little more than a whisper. "It's alright to say it. I think so, too."

Ray shakes his head, glares at his hands because everything was wrong wrong wrong. He wasn't good at talking, about feelings or anything remotely important. He came down here to air out his conscious but he hadn't expected Gavin to wake up. Not that he wanted him to sleep forever, of course. But talking to someone who couldn't hear you was always easier than trying to hold a two-sided conversation.

They sit in silence, just the sound of their breathing and the hum of medical equipment. Ray wants to argue Gavin's words; no one was better than anyone in this family. They all had different skills and traits that helped on missions and heists. It just so happened that Michael was the strongest lad, and was good at using brute force while the others were not.

Gavin stares up at the ceiling and doesn't try to hide the pain in his voice. "Sometimes.. Sometimes I think Jack hates us because Michael cares about us so much."

"No," Ray says automatically. "Jack loves Michael the most, yeah, but he cares for all of us."

Gavin huffs irritably, hands balling into loose fits. It hurts, but he does his best to sit up a bit and look Ray in the eyes. "Jack cares for Michael the same way you care for Geoff; with a single minded focus that blocks out everything else. If something tragic happened to him while he was protecting one of us, who do you think Jack would pin the blame on?"

"Jack's not like that." Ray bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay.

"We can't count on Michael to be our protector all the time." And he sounds so sad, like he hates the words that are coming out of his mouth. His eyes still aren't fully clear.

"Why the hell not?!" Even as he says it, the image of Michael wincing as he sits down fills his mind.

"Because if he's always looking out for us then he isn't looking out for himself!" Gavin's panting after shouting so loudly, the wheeze more apparent. "Michael deserves to be selfish, and if that means taking the hit for shit like this then I'll do it again and again."

Anger bubbles up inside of Ray, hot and thick like tar. It coats his tongue and burns the back of his throat. His eyes water and his pulse pounds and he's never felt so enraged.

"You're such an idiot!" Gavin flinches, totally caught off guard. Ray hardly ever raised his voice. "Why is it okay for you to take the hit but not him? Not me?"

And Gavin makes the mistake of telling the truth.

"Because if I died the crew wouldn't lose anyone important."

What sounds like thunder crashing in the infirmary is actually Ray's chair toppling over as he jumps to his feet. The lingering morphine has completely left Gavin's system, and now he's as alert as he's ever been. Speechless doesn't begin to explain how he feels as he watches his brother pace in front of his bed.

"We'd lose _you_! You're important!" Ray clutches at his hair, breathing hard and fast. "Everyday I wake up and I'm so happy to see you, because it means your ass managed to stay out of trouble for another night. Every time that we leave for a mission and you stay behind, I have to force myself not to freak out. I'm constantly worried that there's gonna be another break in and we won't be able to get back in time." Tears stream down his face, fast and warm and unchallenged. He does nothing to wipe them away, and when he sobs it sounds as angry as he feels.

"You have no idea how torn up Ryan is right now. How helpless and miserable he's been in just these last few hours. If.. If you died, I can guarantee that he would, too."

Ray bends at the waist as he gasps, clutching the railing of the bed for support. His head is spinning, the pulse in his temple throbbing after his impassioned speech. Fear of a different kind makes him woozy as the telltale flicker of a multicolored string passes behind his eyes.

Gavin's pained gasp draws him out of his head and back to the room. The boy struggles to sit up, face twisted in what can only be described as agony. He's as white as the sheets, and already a sheen of sweat has covered his forehead, but he's reaching out for Ray with the arm not caught up by the IV.

Ray stumbles over to him and takes his hand. After a few insistent tugs, he slowly and carefully climbs into the small bed to lay beside Gavin. He doesn't want to lay on him in case he hurts him even more, but his brother simply wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close. As he pushes away the jittery feeling in his limbs, he listens to Gavin's labored breaths until he's no longer struggling for air. The two lay in the blanket of quiet that surrounds them, taking in the fact that they're both alright. It's not a luxury that every crew has.

"Saving someone doesn't always have to mean trading your life for theirs," Ray tells Gavin's shoulder. "It can mean making sure you both get away safely."

Gavin considers this for a long time. So long that Ray has started to doze off. He nuzzles his collarbone and is pleasantly surprised to find that the chemical smell of the infirmary hasn't tainted his brother's skin. Instead he smells clean like soap, refreshing.

"If Ryan were safe, I'd trade my life for yours and Michael's."

Ray knows that he means it, can feel the sincerity by the way his hold tightens protectively around his shoulders. He slips his own arm under Gavin's back, brushing up against the gauze wrapped securely around his torso. His skin is fever warm.

"Me too," Ray whispers. "As long as Geoff is okay, you guys are the most important."

Years ago this would have been a lie. As a gunslinger, the only thing that mattered was the guardian. There was no such thing as self-preservation, only the will to protect and the inherent nature of self-destruct. But now?

"Let's be extra careful from now on," he says, butting the top of his head against Gavin's chin. He curls his legs up by Gavin's thigh, trying to find a comfortable spot in such a small space.

"M'kay," Gavin mumbles. His IV must be timed, since it sounds like he's had another dose of morty. He rubs his cheek on Ray's head, his hair tickling his nose. He lets out a sleepy giggle, and Ray finds himself smiling in response.

"Gav?"

"Mmmm?"

".. Thank you."

 

  
Six hours later Ryan finds himself in the infirmary, refreshed and more than a little irritated with a certain sniper. However, when he sees his boy sleeping peacefully with Ray curled around him like a sentient teddy bear, he decides that maybe, he can hold off on the scolding.

 


End file.
